


This Fable's Not Fiction

by wicked_wonder



Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_wonder/pseuds/wicked_wonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Colfer is a New York Times Best-selling author and bookshop owner. When Broadway darling Darren Criss sings his way into his heart, it feels like a romance for the storybooks, but will a controlling management team, dead-set on branding Darren as a 'straight Hollywood hearthrob,' lead them down the road to an unhappy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Fable's Not Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my entry for the Crisscolfer Big Bang 2015! This is only a first chapter but I will be posting the rest really soon! I really hope everyone enjoys it and knows our boys are 'still going strong.' A major thanks to my artist Kobean on tumblr and my amazing beta, Susan!

Four cases of the new Hunger Games boxed sets. Two cases of the new Nora Roberts romance book. Four cases of Stephan King's latest novel. He already had ten cases of books for the Rainbow Rowell signing next month, but Chris wondered if maybe another two cases would be smart to order. He took of his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes before blindly reaching around for his can of Diet Coke. Picking it up, he found it was empty. Great. Well, only half his book list and going over Jenna's list for the cafe left and Chris could gratefully call it a night. Well, on his ordering forms at least; the bookstore was still open for another hour and a half, and of course, there would be closing duties an hour after. At that, though it seemed like he was in for a long night, a warm sensation flooded Chris's chest.

Putting his glasses back on, Chris's eyes surveyed The Land Of Stories bookstore, _his_ bookstore, with a huge grin on his face. The two-story building was everything Chris could hope for, with its New York-style exposed brick walls and high ceilings with high, long windows to let in plenty of natural light. Bookcases of different sizes and shapes were scattered all over the place, with beautiful and fun signs over the different book areas, such as cooking, gardening, autobiographies, mysteries, and fiction, as well as different items that played into the theme of the area on top of the bookshelves (all lovingly and painstakingly drawn and created by his wonderful friend, Amber). The warm maple hardwood floors had beautifully detailed rugs over them in different areas of the store. To the left side of the store was the children's area, made to look like an enchanted book forest, with realistic looking plastic trees sprouting out of the soft foam floor that was painted to look like a forest floor, with natural, lacquered wood bookshelves, as if the 'forest' they were in had created them. Beanbags in the shape of tree stumps and toadstools were scattered about for them to read on. To the right of the store was the Frenchie Bear Cafe, run by Chris's friend Jenna, with its black and white tiled floors and pastel lavender walls, covered in photos of none other than Jenna's beloved French bulldog, Bear. When Chris had acquired the building through a public auction, high on the rush of his dream bookstore finally coming true, the idea to add a cafe to it hadn't crossed his mind, but when Jenna had told him of her plans to take her in-home baking to the next level and try to find a place to open a cafe, Chris decided to help her and integrated her cafe into his bookstore. In the middle of the store was a wide, gleaming staircase which lead upstairs to a few other book sections and “the quiet area,” designated as such because the walls were laid with soundproofing materials to keep the noise from downstairs out so his patrons could read in silence. There was also an elevator to the side for those in wheelchairs or for the book carts to get up and down. Beyond that was the massive back room/stockroom and the handsome mahogany desk and register that he was currently sitting behind. Some people thought Chris was arrogant and conceited for naming his bookstore after his book series, but Chris didn't care; it was an homage really, a testament to the one thing that helped him escape and keep him sane through the everyday torment his high school bullies had put him through and the scary realities of his younger sister, Hannah's, severe epilepsy. The seed of the idea for The Land Of Stories was his rock for many years and he made sure to tend to it and help it grow until he had produced his very first novel. Besides, what was a bookstore really, but an entire land of stories, ready to take it's readers in and transport them out of their everyday lives. Chris felt the name was appropriate and just the right amount of sentimental to be absolutely perfect.

Chris still couldn't believe this was all his. Was it really only four years ago that the first book in his TLOS series, _The Wishing Spell_ , had hit bookshelves? Though he had been dreaming up the story since his childhood, with little bits and pieces weaving together throughout the years to bind into one cohesive plot, sometimes it still only felt like yesterday that he was scrambling to finish his first official draft and get it to his editor, hoping and praying that his 'baby' was still recognizable under the sharp red ink of the editor's correction pen. After all the hours slaving away and all the back and forth between him and the editor, finally the day came when his publicist, Alla, called and he held the book, his book, beautifully bound and smelling of fresh paper and ink, in his hands. Chris would be lying if he said he hadn't cried like a baby. Then the book was off to the bookstores, with Chris nearly hugging each copy in turn. He wasn't expecting much in the terms of popularity. He was a brand new writer, only 21 years old, and fresh from living in the sweaty hell hole of Fresno, California, and The Land Of Stories was a quote-unquote “children's book” (though Chris attested to anyone who said that, that it was really for anyone, of any age, who loved fairy tales). He was honestly going to be happy with a few good reviews and maybe, if he wished with all his heart, a few teacher's would integrate it into their core curriculum.

What he didn't expect was rave reviews that had started flooding in. Kids, parents, and teachers were the first to gush about how much they enjoyed the book, as he had hoped, but then, he was written about in People magazine, then the Huffington Post, and sites like The A.V. Club gave him a hearty review. It was all far more than Chris thought was possible. It wasn't until two months later, waking up to a call from his Alla at 6 AM, did the unthinkable happen. His book had climbed it's way onto the New York Times Bestsellers list. Chris could barely hear Alla's shouts of congratulations over the crashing waves of ringing in his ear. He had almost dropped his phone in his haste to find his iPad and bring up the website. Once it loaded, Chris's heart nearly stopped when he saw _#8: The Land Of Stories: The Wishing Spell by Chris Colfer_ staring back at him from the screen. He finally hung up with Alla, the bubbly Russian woman gushing about taking him out for champagne later, and stared at the list, utterly transfixed by it and how shocked he was. Never in his wildest dreams did he think this would happen, at least not as fast and suddenly as this. Soon, invitations to book conventions came, where he got to rub elbows and hear praises of his work from the likes of John Green, Neil Gaiman, and other author's he admired, pride swirling high in his stomach. He was given badges and passes with this name on it and 'author' printed underneath, asked to step into the spotlight and give speeches and answer questions from reporters and audiences, instead of just reading about the events in magazines and just wishing he could be there one day.

With the high praises of _The Wishing Spell_ still ringing in his ears, Chris's creative juices flowed in overdrive, spurning him on as he weaved the lore of The Land Of Stories bigger and bigger and higher and higher, until the next thing he knew, four years had passed and he had three books published into the TLOS franchise, as well as one stand-alone young adult novel, and a fourth TLOS book in the beginning editing stage and, as he looked around with pride, a flourishing bookstore in the heart of Greenwich Village in New York City. Chris felt like one of the rare few who could say that his dreams had come true. Sure, maybe to some, his dreams were small, but it's not like Chris needed to be president or the next Brad Pitt to be happy (his dramatic side almost huffing indignantly at that last one), no, his laptop to write, a place to share his love of reading with the world, or just those of NYC, and an audience enthralled with the magic his ideas and imagination imbued into the words of his books, was all he needed in the world.

Chris looked back down at his book order form, determined to finish it by that night, when a paper cup bearing the Frenchie Bear Cafe's logo appeared next to him, put down by Jenna, a thumb drive in her hand.

“I brought you a dirty vanilla chai. You looked like you needed the caffeine, but this doesn't have all those gross chemicals that your Diet Coke has,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Chris.

“Ah yes, my wonderful health advisor. Where would I be without you?” Chris asked, taking a sip from the cup and letting the spicy sweet flavors of the vanilla and chai, mixed with the subtle smoky sweet flavor of the espresso, dance across his taste buds.

“Probably close to kicking the bucket, I'd say,” Jenna said, almost glaring at the empty Diet Coke can next to Chris. Jenna had been on a complete health kick lately, switching out the flavored syrups in the cafe with organic ones and replacing most of the treats in her bakery with gluten-free and paleo-friendly pastries instead, and while Chris was impressed and happy for her for the way she was reshaping her body and her eating lifestyle, there was no way in hell Chris would give up his precious Diet Coke, no matter how many cancer-causing chemicals Jenna claimed were in it.

She brandished the thumb drive she had brought with her at Chris. “Here, my cafe order is all done and on here. It's all about the same, I just ordered more cups than usual in case open mic night really takes off next week,” she said, as Chris plugged in the drive into this laptop and opened her order.

“Well, I had a few people in earlier who were asking about it, so at least I know the fliers are being seen and it won't be completely dead,” Chris said, attaching Jenna's order to an email to their cafe's supplier and hitting send.

“I'm so excited for it! I may even get up and sing a little. I'm glad Amber finally talked you into it,” Jenna said, sitting back in her chair and putting her feet up on the top of the register, which Chris glared at her for. He almost snorted at that. Yes, Amber was the one to bring about the idea of an open mic night, to jazz up The Land Of Stories' Monday nights, with the help of their friend, Mark, who was always looking for a place to have a gig but complained that all the other open mic nights he had been to were lame, but it wasn't so much that they 'finally talked him into it' as much as they wouldn't shut up about it until Chris finally caved just to get them to stop asking. Chris decided to look on the bright side, he guessed it would be kinda fun to see how popular it got, and it would bring more recognition to the bookshop and to Jenna's Frenchie Bear Cafe, where the open mic night would be taking place, and more revenue. It wasn't like The Land Of Stories Bookstore was hurting, quite the opposite really when Chris did his books last week, but more money would mean he could get better decorations for the window displays, and the kids area, and be able to do more fund-raising for some local charities he supported like he had been wanting to.

“Yes well, let's be excited after I get these orders forms done,” Chris said, knocking her feet so she'd get them off the counter. (Was Chris really going to need to type her up a memo about that AGAIN?) Jenna sighed but moved them to the floor when a devilish smirk found its way to her mouth.

“If open mic night does take off as planned, maybe we could entice you to get up on the stage and give us a performance...” Jenna said.

Chris humphed. “And subject everyone to my 'shrill screech so high only dogs could hear it?' No thanks,” Chris said flatly.

“Aww c'mon, that talent director had no idea what the hell he was talking about,” Jenna said, patting Chris on the back.

“He was a major talent director for five different Broadway shows, I'm pretty sure he did,” Chris huffed, unplugging Jenna's thumb drive and handing it back to her.

Jenna knew that Chris already hated the sound of his singing voice and hated to be reminded of that awful day when he had auditioned for a new Broadway show and had let his nerves get the better of him, causing him to sink his song. She got up from her chair and headed back to her cafe, letting him get back to his book order forms, hoping he'd change his mind and get back on a stage one day.

* * *

Chris knew the old adage said that you should write drunk and edit sober, but with every page of his red marked transcript that his editor had sent back to him, Chris could feel the urge to run to the nearest store and buy a bottle of tequila. What on Earth did his editor mean that having Alex dress in a butterfly gown and still kick ass didn't make sense? Of course she could kick ass in a butterfly gown! He shook his head and turned the page, greeted by another page decorated in red. How far was the liquor store from here again?

Before he could ponder that thought any farther, the door leading from Jenna's cafe to the bookstore opened as someone came through, making the sound of the young girl playing the violin increase. Chris turned to gaze into the cafe, a smile on his lips. It had been a month and a half since open mic night had started and Chris was happy that he could put any fear he had of this idea crashing and burning to rest, judging by the sizable crowd inside the cafe. It was all turning out as planned; the Frenchie Bear Cafe had been gaining the recognition Jenna had wanted, his friends and fellow New Yorkers had a place to display their talents, and just like the man who had just walked in from the cafe, more people were coming into the bookstore and buying things. It was truly a win-win-win situation.

Just then, the young girl had finished her violin solo to loud applause. As she stepped down, Jenna walked up to the mic “Alright, let's here it for Beverley Green! Remember we still have one open spot for tonight's open mic night if anyone wold like to give us a performance. Alright, up next to the stage, please give it up for the poetry of Rodney Kirsh!” she said, as the crowd applauded again. The young man stepped up and Jenna breezed her way through the door leading into the bookstore. She plopped into the chair next to Chris.

“We're only five times in almost every slot has been filled in tonight and someone just dropped a twenty in the tip jar, I call that an unqualified success!” she said, crossing her arms jauntily.

“I've had a lot more revenue coming into the store too. It has been quite the success,” Chris agreed happily. His books had looked so good, his accountant had told him the other day, Chris was already looking at stuff to buy for his window displays. Maybe he could have a mini pirate ship built for the Peter Pan display he wanted to try.

Jenna was about to stand to get back to the cafe when her eyes landed on the red ink splotched pages in front of Chris.

“Did you get the edits back for your novel?” Jenna asked, gesturing to the pages, “All that red. It looks like a war zone.”

Chris looked at them before sighing. “Yeah, there are a few pages that I can barely even see the words I wrote under all the red ink. I'm getting a headache just looking at them. They think Alex can't fight in a butterfly gown. Why wouldn't she be able to fight in a butterfly gown?! Her fashion sense and her fighting skill are not mutually exclusive!” he muttered.

Jenna nodded. “Well, I agree with you there. Amen and girl power!” she said. Just then, an idea formed in her head and she pulled a slip of paper out of her short black apron, a smirk gracing her face.“Well, if you need a break from those. I know just the thing,” she trilled, making Chris look at her with one eyebrow quirked. “Mr. Short, curly-haired, and utterly dreamy is up next on the mic if you want to go in and have a listen.”

Chris tried his hardest to school his expression into one of indifference, to make it seem that what she had just told him had no affect on him whatsoever, but he couldn't help the way he felt his heart speed up or the way he felt his ears were turning a vibrant tomato red just thinking about the man Jenna was referring to. “Oh, is he? That’s, um, nice, I guess,” Chris said lamely as he clumsily tried to arrange the pages in front of him. It was no use when he could feel the itchiness in under his skin as he knew he wanted nothing more than to run into the cafe to listen to the man in question sing.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Yes, real nice. So nice in fact, you're gonna go in there and listen. C'mon, Colfer, get your perky little hiney in gear and get in there," Jenna said, stashing Chris's papers in a drawer, grabbing Chris's arm to stand him up, and leading him into the cafe.

"Okay, okay, okay. Damn, Ushkowitz, you don't have to be so pushy," Chris huffed.

"Yeah, like this is gonna be torture for you," Jenna chided back. "If anything, it will be for everyone else because we'll have to watch you two eyefuck for the duration of his performance, like you two have been doing for the past few weeks."

"Eyefu--Excuse me?!" Chris shot back, aghast.

"Yes eyefuck. As in having sex with your eyes. I could have sworn one of you could have gotten pregnant by those stares alone. Honestly, you should just ask him out. I'm pretty sure we both know what the answer would be, and how long has it been since your last date, Chris? C'mon, it could be fun," Jenna stated as she opened the door that lead to the cafe and lead Chris to sit on a stool behind the register.

Chris was about to retort back, but Rodney had just finished his poem to pleasant applause and Jenna ran up to the mic.

"Alright, let's give it up for Rodney Kirsh! Up next, please give a warm welcome to Everett C.!" she cried, as everyone applauded. A few girls in the front wolf-whistled as Everett took the stage, an acoustic guitar in his hand.

"Hi everyone! Great to see you all!" he said, beaming widely at the crowd. The same girls up front whistled again. "This first song, I wrote at the tender, young age of 15, and it was the first song I ever wrote. This one's called ‘Human,’” he said as he began to strum out the song.

_"I feel like a loser_

_I feel like I'm lost_

_I feel like I'm not sure_

_If I feel anything at all....."_

Chris sank happily into his seat as he let the man's smooth voice wash over him. The man, Everett C., as he always signed in that way into the open mic night roster, had been coming in to sing since the second open mic night. Every time he did, he had brought his acoustic guitar and his wide, beautiful smile. He was everything Jenna had described him as. He was at a shorter-than-average height of 5'8", his body compact, something that Chris was surprised to find that he thought was highly adorable. His hair was a wild riot of dark, inky curls, just calling for Chris to card his fingers through (which may or may not have been a fantasy of Chris's for the last few weeks). This week he seemed to be sporting some impressive stubble, which Chris didn't think he'd find so damn attractive, but on this man, he really, really did. But the thing about this man that Chris found irresistible, the source of his 'eyefucking' as Jenna had so eloquently called it, was those two golden-hazel eyes of his, surrounded by a full fan of long, dark lashes and amusedly shaped triangular eyebrows. Chris knew that if given the opportunity, he'd love nothing more than to stare into them and spend hours compelling every hue of color in them that he could find. Almost as if by magic, Everett lifted his eyes and found Chris's from across the room. Chris felt a blush creep up his face as he felt those golden eyes on him. They crinkled merrily at the contact as the two of them shared shy smiles from across the room.

"See, eyefucking. I hope you have protection," Jenna joked as Chris slapped her on the arm, his eyes never leaving Everett’s. “I still think he looks so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it,” she continued as Chris shushed her. Soon enough, Everett had brought his song to an end:

_"But that just makes me a dumb human_

_That just makes me_

_That makes me a human like you..."_

The crowd in the cafe cheered as he spoke again, "Wow, thanks guys! I have one more song for you tonight. I guess it's the kind of song that one would sing if they were trying to woo someone, in an attempt to court them," he said, eyes locking meaningfully with Chris's again. He raised an eyebrow in question and Everett smiled shyly, his eyes flicking up to meet Chris's again before starting his song. Chris turned to look at Jenna who was just giving him her most Cheshire Cat-like grin as the song started.

“ _Say, wasn't that a funny day?_

_Gee you had a funny way,_

_a way about you_

_A kind of glow of something new_

  
  


_Sure, I'll admit that I'm the same_

_Another sucker for a game kids like to play_

_And the rules they like to use_

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel for you?_

  
  


_The sun telling me the night is done_

_Well I refuse to let it stop our fun_

_Close your eyes, we'll make it dark again_

_And kiss, there's a thought so how 'bout this?_

_Let's pretend that both our lips are made of candy_

_After all we need sweets every now and then_

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel?_

_Don't you want the way I feel for you?”_

Chris sighed dreamily as those beautiful eyes found his again with a wide grin following, and he was happy to return the heated gaze. The lyrics swam in his head. As Everett finished his song, the crowd erupted into applause yet again. He gave a small laugh before grabbing the mic. "Thanks everyone! Until next week!" he called, gathering his guitar to leave the stage.

"Aren't you glad I told you to come listen?" Jenna asked Chris smugly before walking back up to the stage. "Alright, one more time, give it up for Everett C.! Alright, next to the stage, we have..."

Chris slid back into the bookstore at that, a happy grin on his face. He relieved the worker who had taken his place at the register and sat back down, ready to spend the rest of the night in his fantasy world where he and Everett C. Did more than just stare at each other. Maybe one day they'd have a proper conversation, though the thought almost terrified Chris. What if he was turned off by, and mocked, Chris's voice? What if, for all the dreamy qualities of his looks and voice, he was really boring? What if he wasn't even interested in Chris, and he had just been reading everything all wrong? Chris sighed, guessing that this was why the fantasy world was much better than the real one. The fantasy world could never let you down. He retrieved his edited novel pages from the drawer Jenna had put them in, their red marks waiting for him. Back to reality. Great.

"Excuse me?" a voice called, breaking Chris out of his reverie. He looked up and felt like pinching himself because this had to be a dream. Everett C. was standing in front of him, holding a copy of _The Land Of Stories: The Wishing Spell_ in his hand. Chris could literally feel his jaw drop. “Hi,” Everett said, his smile warm but a little apprehensive, like he knew that starting a conversation was new territory that they were both a little scared to discover.

“What are you doing here?” The question burst from Chris's lips before he had a chance to stop it. The other man lifted those adorable triangular brows in surprise, and Chris felt a flash of fear go through him at the thought that he had just offended him. “Shit! No! Oh God, I mean, that's not what I meant, you can be here if you want, I just--” Chris babbled hurriedly, his voice rising in octave in his haste to explain, a trait of his that he hated. This was it, he had heard Chris's high-pitched voice and with that question, he was going to walk out and never come back again. But the man waited patiently, a small sympathetic, though amused, smile on his face as Chris took a breath. “Sorry, let me try again. Hello. How can I help you?” he asked.

“I, uh, was looking for a gift for my niece, and I was wondering if you could tell me if this is a good book?” the other man said with a cheeky grin, showing Chris the copy of _The Wishing Spell_ , _his book_ , that he had in his hands.

Chris could feel the heat rise and settle into his cheeks as his brain quickly scrambled to form words. “We-well, that depends....is you niece a lover of fantasy books?” he asked, trying to stop his heart from jack-hammering in his chest.

“Well, she's never complained about any of the other ones I've bought her. But I know she likes books about adventure and princesses and things like that. At least those are the ones I see her smile through the most. It seems like this author has that in this book,” he said.

“I see, Well, I can assure you that this book is just chock-full of adventure and princesses, so it should be right up her alley. You can tell her it's that author's favorite thing too,” Chris told him.

“Are you well-versed in this author's work?” Everett asked a cheeky grin on his face.

Chris chuckled. “Something like that. I guess you can say I'm pretty...intimate with his work,” he said, proud to see a small blush appear on the other man's face at the word intimate.

“Excellent. Well then, what can I say other than, I'm sold,” Everett said, handing the book over to Chris. 

As Chris reached for it, their fingers brushed, and Jenna's comment about Chris dating again entered his mind. Maybe Jenna was right. Maybe it was about time to try dating again. His last few attempts to wade through the dating scene had been disastrous, with more than one drunken, sobbing phone call to Amber's phone as Chris wailed about the asshole who left him halfway through their date because he thought 'the waiter was hotter' or because another guy was the biggest creep on the planet. Maybe this guy, Everett, would be different. Alright, Colfer, no time like the present. Bite the bullet.

“In fact....maybe we can discuss more books your niece would love...over dinner perhaps?” Chris asked, holding his breath and hoping that at least he'd be shot down as gently as possible.

Instead, a smile that could rival the brightness of the sun broke onto Everett's face. “Wait, really?! I mean, absolutely! That would be great! Did you want to go now? Because I know this great little place that's open now that's not too far....”

Chris looked at his watch: 8:35 PM. Not terribly late. “Well, I could have someone lock up for me....just give me a moment,” Chris said, gathering his edited novel pages and heading to the backroom to stow them into his bag. Once he found one of his employees and asked them to lock up, he grabbed his things and set off on his last task before he could leave. He walked over to Jenna's cafe and tapped the glass over where she was pulling empty treat trays out of the display case.

“Sarah's locking up tonight, I'm heading out,” he informed her.

“Gonna work on your edits?” she asked, setting the trays in her dirty dish bin.

“Gonna go on a date....with Everett,” Chris said as Jenna's head shot up so fast, he was afraid she'd break her neck.

“Excuse me, what??” she asked.

“Yeah....I guess we'll see if I'm ready to date again,” Chris said.

“Oh honey, I'm so happy for you! Do you need anything? Mints? Condoms? I have some in my purse,” she started.

Chris's face lit up as red as a red stoplight. “I do not need that last one, Jenna, thank you very much” Chris all but hissed at her.

“Hey, you two have been eyefucking for a month, I just want to make sure you're prepared in case you want to actually do the deed,” she told him plainly.

Chris rolled his eyes as he tried to calm his face down. “I'm fine. Just wanted you to know.”

“Well, I'm glad,” she said with a genuine smile. “Have fun tonight!” she called as Chris headed back into the bookstore where Everett was waiting, his skin buzzing with excitement for what tonight had in store.

* * *

“So then Chuck tells her it was MY fault and I get grounded, all because he wanted to impress some girl, who, not only turned him down when he had finally asked her out, but also had a new boyfriend anyway two weeks later,” Everett told him, sinking down the last of his wine.

Chris giggled into his napkin as he had been doing all night. The restaurant Everett had taken him to, The Little Owl, was a small walk from The Land Of Stories, and Chris was delighted that it was one he had never been to before but had been wanting to check out. The chemistry between them was wonderful, as they had started the night getting acquainted with each other on the walk over (both shocked to learn that they only grew up a few hours from each other in California, Everett from San Francisco and Chris from Fresno), and dinner had gone very well, Chris delighted to know that they had a variety of things in common, from a passion for comics, Harry Potter, Disney, and 'nerd culture,' to loving some of the same designers, shows, and cultural icons (“Laverne Cox is a goddess, I swear,” “RIGHT?!”) and a love for the apple crumb cheesecake from Junior's, both regaling each other on growing up with their siblings (Chris told Everett about the one time his younger sister, Hannah, accidentally punched him and gave him a black eye and Everett just finishing telling him about his older brother, Chuck, and how he had put the blame of an expensive smashed vase on the younger sibling so he wouldn't be grounded and could go on a date) and their lives up to that point.

“Please tell me you held that over his head, because I know I would have,” Chris said, putting his napkin back on the table.

“Oh trust me, I did. I totally use it for leverage to this day,” Everett said. “Though what he doesn't know is,” he said, leaning in as Chris did the same with an eyebrow raised. “My grounding only lasted two days because my dad had glued the vase back together and because honestly, imagine me at eight, who could ground this face?” he asked, giving Chris puppy eyes and a pout, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly, making Chris laugh again.

“Yeah, yeah, I see what you mean,” Chris said, shaking his head and smiling.

Everett stopped his pout and smiled back. “The prefect ammunition,” he joked as a small, comfortable silence fell, and the same intimate feeling rushing back in that Chris had been feeling all night that made him giddy and lightheaded and almost like he was a teenager again. More than once, they had accidentally brushed feet under the table, the last pass had almost felt like a caress. The small, tender smiles that they had been trading all evening, like now, had sent his heart thudding in his chest, and now, he was very aware of just how close to each other their hands lay out in front of them on the table, and if they just moved them a few inches, Chris could thread his fingers with Everett's like he had been dying to all evening.

“In fact, I have to go over there tomorrow morning before work to talk to him about a project he's helping me with,” Darren said, breaking out of their reverie a little. “Luckily, I don't go in until around three in the afternoon and he just has his guitar lessons in the morning.”

Chris had the question of “What's the project?” on the tip of his tongue before the word 'work' had made him realize that he still wasn't sure what Everett did as a job.

“Before I ask about the project, can I ask, what exactly you do again? I know you said something to do with music and performing arts, but, are you a teacher?” Chris asked, picking up his wine glass to finish his drink off.

Darren's eyes grew wide, “Wait, you don't know who I am?” he asked as Chris shook his head, “Well.....I'm not a teacher, just a performer...” he began as Chris saw a young teenage girl timidly approach their table.

“Excuse me, I am so, so sorry to bug you, Mr. Criss,” she began, her voice soft and a little wobbly, “but I am a huge fan, and I saw you here and I just wanted you to know that I loved your portrayal of J. Pierrepont Finch when you were in How To Succeed and Hedwig, of course, and I'm flying back home to Missouri in three days and I'm seeing your show tomorrow and I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to tell you this at stage door, Darren, but you're one of my absolute favorite actors and I joined the drama club at school because you fueled my love of acting and theatre and you just inspire me so so so much,” she said all in one breath.

“Thank you so much, that's very sweet of you,” Everett said. “What's your name, sweetheart?” he asked her, as he took one of her trembling hands.

“Alina O'Dell,” she all but whispered, he eyes locked on their hands before Everett spoke again.

“Alina, that's a beautiful name. I am very glad to have fans like you. Is your drama club performing anything soon?” he asked, grabbing a clean napkin and taking the pen out of their bill holder and starting to write on it.

“Yes,” she squeaked. “We're doing 'Crazy For You' this semester. I'm playing Tess,” she said, a little bit of pride coloring her voice.

“That's an amazing show! I'm sure you're going to be perfect in the role and pull all the focus,” he told her as she beamed at his kind words. “What school do you go to?” he asked.

“Cabret High School,” she said as he handed her the napkin he had been writing on, which now contained a personalized note to her on it.

“Well, you tell everyone in your production that I said to break a leg on your opening night, and I hope you get nothing but good reviews and maybe someday in the future, if I'm lucky, I'll get to share the stage with you,” he said as Alina's eyes widened almost comically.

“I-I-I-I- yes, that, I mean, I hope so too,” she stuttered, her eyes starting to mist over.

“Do you have a phone, and maybe we can take a selfie?” he asked, before her hand shot into her pocket and she produced one. They took their picture and shared a huge hug before he told her to arrive at the theatre by 5:30 for “a special treat.”

“Thank you, Darren. Thank you so so so much!” she said before she returned to her parents, who sent him a kind head nod as they left the restaurant, Alina in tow, bawling her eyes out as she read the note on her napkin.

Another silence fell over them as Chris sat there and tried to work his brain around everything that had just happened.

“So, I guess I should go into a little more detail about my job, huh?”

Chris was silent, staring down at his wine glass before he lifted them to stare at his dinner partner, “She...she called you Darren,” he said, before reaching for their dinner bill, where their credit cards were still (they had decided to go dutch), and looked at the VISA card with the name Darren Criss stamped into it. “Your credit card also says Darren,” he said. “And the C. The C stands for Criss,” he mused, as he soaked up all this new information.

“Yeah, I....wait, what did you think my name was this whole time?”

Chris looked back at him. “Everett. Everett C. That's how you signed into the open mic nights every time,” he said.

Darren thought back for a second when it hit him. “Holy shit, oh man, I'm sorry. I had been in your bookstore before, and I heard about your open mic night and how it was on Mondays, our only day off on Broadway, and I signed in that way because I just wanted to jam out at an open mic night without a huge crowd just because of who I am, you know? And I just thought, you know, with all the billboards and seeing how this is New York, you might have—shit, I am so sorry. That should teach me to have a big head, right? Um, Let me introduce myself properly. Hi, my name is Darren Everett Criss, I'm an actor currently on Broadway, in Jersey Boys, and I'm really, really hoping you don't hate me because you look so confused right now.”

Chris sat there still, working everything out. Darren Everett Criss. Broadway actor. Billboards. Fans.

The silence almost grew deafening by the second. Fearing the worst, Darren slowly plucked his credit card out of the black restaurant bill holder. “Um, so, I can pay you back for your portion of the bill, if you want. If it's any consolation, it was a lovely evening, and again, I'm really sorry,” he said, making a motion to stand.

“Anything else?” Chris asked suddenly, bringing his eyes up to meet Darren's.

“Um, sorry?” he asked.

“Well, at least now I know your actual name. Is there anything else that I might need to know if we do this again? That is, if you want to,” Chris asked, giving Darren a small, shaky smile.

Darren felt his lungs fill to bursting with all the air he had taken in, “Um....I hate peas?” he all but squeaked.

“Good to know, Darren,” Chris said, as he also plucked his credit card from the bill holder. ”Shall we?” he asked, standing. “I was thinking we could get some gelato at Grom. I've been craving their Crema di Grom, and it'll give me a chance to ask all about your show, Mr. Broadway Star.”

“Um, ye-yeah, let's go!” Darren said, rising to his feet and following Chris out the door.

Once gelato had been consumed and they had covered more subjects than Chris ever had on a first date, they slowly made their way to the closest subway station. Chris lived in Chelsea, only a few stops from where they were, and Darren lived in Gramercy Park and they had to separate soon.

“So, seeing as this was a spur-of-the-moment type thing and the whole thing with me not knowing your real name or that you're a Broadway star for the last month, I have to say, best first date I've ever had,” Chris said as they strolled along.

“I'm hardly the star; that's Frankie Valli. I just play Nick Massi. But a little mystery never hurt, I guess,” Darren chuckled.

“Exactly. Twists and turns. It totally appealed to the writer in me, good job,” Chris grinned. “I hope your niece doesn't get too jealous that you took the writer of her book out,” he continued, pointing to his book in Darren's hand. “Let me see it, I'll write her a small note like you did for that girl in the restaurant.”

“Oh....no, that's not necessary,” Darren said, clutching the book a little tighter. “I'll just keep the book at my place, and we'll read it when I visit.”

Chris looked at him a little confused. “What if she wants to read it before bed or something? Or your brother could read it to her while your at work, Mr. Broadway.”

“He could, but...I don't think she'd fully grasp it.....yet.”

“Don't tell me you actually don't have a niece,” Chris said a little deadpan as they descended the stairs into the subway station.

“No, no, I do, but......”

“But?”

“She'sonlyoneandIboughtthebooksoIcouldtalktoyou.”

“Wait, what?”

Darren sighed. “I've been wanting to ask you out for a while, but I didn't know how, so I used Rosemary as a scapegoat. BUT! To be fair, I do read her books when I visit her, and they are mostly fairytale and Dr. Seuss books, and she does smile, but as a one-year-old I don't know how much she takes in.....and once I found out that you were the author of those books, and you owned the bookstore, which is so badass by the way, I wanted to start reading them for myself, so I used Rosemary. Hey, at least we got another twist in before the night is through,” Darren joked, waggling his eyebrows.

Chris just stared at him before he burst out laughing. Well, at least Darren was the first guy he'd been on a date with that had actually wanted to read his books. “Well, once you read it together, you'll have to give me her review,” Chris said.

“Absolutely! Though, with Rosemary, she tends to gurgle and spit a lot, but that usually means she likes it,” Darren said.

“And if she hates it?”

“She'll cry mostly, maybe fart on you, But Where The Wild Things Are and Dr. Seuss have been a hit so far, so we'll see if she's ready for your book,” Darren said.

A voice overhead sounded that Chris's train car would be arriving soon, so they looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Though the night had been a little bit of a wild ride, not any part of him wanted to leave Darren so soon. He was sweet, charming, funny, and Chris could get lost in those beautiful eyes for the rest of his life. The voice sounded again, warning Chris that his train was arriving, so he did the first thing he thought of: he grabbed the book from Darren, scribbled a note inside and gave it back, reaching up to place a sweet kiss on his lips. It was warm and pretty chaste, considering they were in a crowded subway station with people streaming by, but Darren could feel the warmth it gave him flood his body. Chris pulled away and disappeared down the stairs to his awaiting train, throwing Darren one more smile. Darren stood there, in the middle of the subway station, a goofy smile on his face. He opened the book to where Chris had written his note- along with his number-and he smiled even wider.

_Can't wait to see what other twists and turns I can expect from you – call me_

 

 


End file.
